let’s dew it

there was absolutely no shame in his voice when he admitted it. "i just kept running past it after the storm and the broken section started bothering me" he rested the hammer against his shoulder. "you ever see something enough times that eventually your brain decides it's your responsibility?" because that was apparently what had happened. his smile widened slightly.

"makes sense to me." he wouldn't get concerned over something like that. probably the person that lived here couldn't afford to get it fixed or if they could maybe they didn't have time to fix it themselves. "yup. all the time." dewey thought back to the family tree he'd seen in webby's room the first time they met—donald and the blank space that was for della there like a mystery he needed to solve. how he wanted to be the hero that found their mom. it had been his responsibility in finding out the truth. "right now responsibility is mostly family oriented, but still." same thing. and honestly, his family was kind of falling apart in a way that only he could fix.

"well, i have a small solution to that conundrum," he replied. he couldn't hold his hand out for a handshake, but that was okay. "i'm dewey duck," he introduced himself. "there now we're not strangers." because that was his fool proof way of not being strangers with someone. "

ever since her adventure with chess, luz had frequented the museums a lot more lately. art was something she could always appreciate. she considered herself a novice artist. she didn't create masterpieces by any means, but what she created was from the heart. the witch sat in front of a dazzling statue. inspiration had struck, which led her to draw a few doodles of her own. she was locked in when the voice of someone else interrupted her concentration. "i'm always down for some food. $3 bribe isn't needed!" luz smiled as she sent her sketchbook down. "yeah, he's donated a lot to the museum. and the city actually." she paused. "so! where do you want to eat?"

⸻🍂 WILLOW WAS BACK WITHIN ELIAS MUSEUM OF History &. Art trying to convince themselves that it was safer there ⸻ than it was in the wide-open. As they held that Rollieflord-XZ ⸻ an strange-camera heavier than it looked.  While it was not one idea but several forced into an agreement.  As they were testing the filmed-filters minding themselves watching through the viewfinder. &. for an moment there mind went very quiet in the kind of way soil becomes still right before roots decide which direction they desired to go.

“ That is . . . a very strange offer from someone I have never met before ⸻ ” as they were polite ⸻ but flummoxed because . . . who doesn't like Scrooge McDuck? As the name was impossible to rival against ⸻ survive next to.  But the one thing they noticed was that the stranger had an sort of tiredness ⸻ restless exhaustion about them in the kind of way that doesn't seem rehearsed? 

While that made this whole thing less like an joke &. more like . . . someone tossing an rope into the dark without checking what it was tied to ⸻ who was holding on to it on the other side of the dark ⸻ an kind of restless exhaustion that came from wandering without any real direction ⸻ needing to be anywhere but where they were. As they understood that feeling more than they liked to honestly admit lately. “ Alright ⸻ ” they murmured quietly putting up the Rollieflord-XZ in there adventure-bag “ ⸻ lead the way I guess? ”

dewey forgot that not everyone liked strangers talking to them. especially strangers that said random stuff, but he never cared about that. he eyed the person who he made the offer to. the camera, the glasses, the stance. if he was smarter he'd try to figure out what their tone meant, their body language. yet he didn't care, didn't notice, didn't know.

"right of course. dewey duck," he held his hand out for a shake. "and now we're not strangers." because you couldn't be strangers with someone you knew the name of. at least that's what he thought. "and your name?"

he liked to think that he was good at hiding his feelings from most people, from those that didn't notice or didn't know him. he liked to hide true feelings behind the jokes and sure maybe there were feelings he was working through, but constant reminders of his failures and his family's secrets.

"see, now i've got you curious." likely anyone would be curious about this kind of offer. "what's your favorite place? it can be anywhere. new elias, old elias, the underland." dewey tilted his head to the side. they didn't seem like someone who hung around the underland often, but then again what did he know. he mostly avoided it mostly because he knew that no one wanted him to hang out there. between not wanting to upset his brothers further to knowing that he'd probably have to use some kind of fake name, the underland didn't seem like the best place for him to hang around.

he watched from across the street for a minute, the person fixing some kind of fence. honestly seemed like something he should probably at least attempt to assist with if he was going to be staring at the person. dewey crossed the street. "okay, i'm no expert or anything, but i don't think this is a task you can do on your own." he would have no idea what he was doing, however it was something to do. "do you want help?"

Ambrosius had been standing in front of the vegetable stand for nearly ten minutes. Not because anything was wrong. Not because he couldn't make a decision. But because somehow choosing what to make for dinner felt significantly more complicated than facing down a dragon. The market bustled around him, vendors calling out prices and children weaving between stalls while the scent of fresh bread drifted from somewhere nearby. Ambrosius barely noticed any of it. Instead, he stood with a basket hooked over one arm and a zucchini in one hand, studying it like it held the secrets of the universe.

"Right," he muttered to himself. "But what does one actually do with a zucchini?" The vegetable, unfortunately, offered no guidance. A tomato sat in his basket. Alongside it was garlic, potatoes, carrots, and what might've been enough onions to feed a small army.

In hindsight, he may have started shopping before deciding what he was actually cooking. With a thoughtful hum, Ambrosius set the zucchini down only to immediately pick up an eggplant. His brow furrowed. The truth was, he enjoyed little things like this. Normal things. There was something comforting about standing in a market deciding what to make for dinner. No battles to fight. No expectations to live up to. Just an ordinary afternoon and the possibility of a good meal.

Unfortunately, ordinary life came with its own challenges. Like eggplants. Ambrosius sighed dramatically before looking toward the nearest person. "Alright, I need an unbiased opinion." He lifted both vegetables. "Which one is easier to accidentally turn into dinner? And please answer as though my previous cooking experience consists primarily of not setting things on fire." His smile widened slightly. "A skill I'm very proud of, for the record."

dewey hated this so-called break that everyone wanted to take, even if he made his jokes and acted like he didn't care. everyone could probably guess that he cared more than he wanted to admit to everyone. he understood why everyone wanted a break, but they were built for adventure—or maybe he was built for adventure. since moving out of the manor, he'd been trying to find his place, trying to mend his heart, trying to fix all the damage that he caused. so maybe he needed to figure out how to blend with ordinary life a little better because there were adventures here, there were mysteries here.

he didn't know how to cook. he ate his vegetables, sure, but he didn't cook. he helped do little things in the kitchen, like spicing things and chopping vegetables and even that was kind of chaotic. "i'm totally unbiased, but i don't know that i'll be much help. i'm gonna have to steal one of my brother's cookbooks to make dinner." honestly, he probably shouldn't even try to cook. "maybe a stir fry with the zucchini? that sounds relatively easy." he wouldn't know.